


Ash of the Holly Tree

by Rebldomakr



Series: Ash of the Holly Tree [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidentally Manipulative Harry, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Gen, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Powerful Harry, Slow Burn, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Ron Weasley, Tags Contain Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-01-04 08:25:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18339878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebldomakr/pseuds/Rebldomakr
Summary: Harry Potter becomes a ward of the Ministry of Magic after he's confused for a lost muggleborn in the Leaky Cauldron.





	1. Part I. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be a slowly written, slow burn story. It's going to begin maybe just a little fast paced, but there is going to be a LOT of effort placed into making a proper slow burn story.
> 
> I do not have a beta for the story and I don't really crave one, but I am human and I really don't like spending that much time carefully going over the story for grammar and spelling mistakes. I catch what I can. Mostly, when I edit, I'm just going over word use and trying to make everything more detailed/make more sense. BUT if you catch a mistake, feel free to tell me.
> 
> This fic is eventually going to have a romantic subplot, but since it's very unimportant to the story (especially right now) I'm not going to make it a tag. Also mostly because I haven't really decided what kind of romantic subplot I'm gonna go far? I'm going along slow in this story for a reason. I've thought about it for a WHILE and I really don't want to undermine what I want to be the soul of this story. 
> 
> Tags will be slowly added to and altered over the course of this story. mostly because I'm not entirely sure of what's going to happen. I have my ideas, but I don't want to put something down and change it because I came up with something I liked better.

**BOY WHO LIVED, BOY WHO RAN AWAY  
**by S. Ritz                           April 3rd, 1991

Nearly a decade ago, You-Know-Who was defeated by a rebound Killing Curse. The war that plagued our community would finally come to an end, though it would take time for wounds to heal. Even now, many of us clearly remember the horrors and pains. Our peace, now, is thanks to the existence of Harry Potter. The boy who lived the Killing Curse, who defeated You-Know-Who at the age of one. We said our thanks in a week long celebration, one that nearly destroyed the secrecy of our community. Then, we simply forgot about him.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, son of Auror James Potter, was found in Leaky Cauldron three days ago. The Leaky Cauldron owner wrote to the Auror Office on suspicion a muggleborn child had found his way inside. A fairly common experience for Leaky Cauldron, though normally they end up accompanied by a very confused muggle relative. This was no muggleborn, though. Instead, it was a gifted child who had no idea of the magical world.

The Leaky Cauldron was a lucky destination for Harry. He ran away from the home of his muggle relatives, taking with him only some money. He walked miles until he ended up in London. We can thank luck that he came back to us.

When Ministry officials arrived, they brought him into a separate room for questioning. That’s when they discovered they weren’t dealing with a lost muggleborn, but the Boy-Who-Lived who ran away from home. Upon further questioning, a story of neglect and abuse became uncovered.

We forgot our savior, the boy we all thanked for ridding the world of You Know Who. While we found peace and thrived once again, Harry Potter was stuck inside of a cupboard. An inside source stated, “When we further investigated this case and went to the house of his muggle relatives, things just kept getting worse and worse.”

Our Boy-Who-Lived, lived under the stairs in a dingy cupboard. He was punished for displaying any sign of magic. He was kept from food and beaten. Running away was an attempt at finding salvation, it seems, for the young boy.

The Ministry of Magic had awarded emancipation to Harry Potter after his parent’s request in their written will. Yesterday, they officially removed it. Harry Potter is once again a ward of the Ministry of Magic. Unlike most wards of the Ministry, the muggle world has been deemed unsafe for him to coexist with. He’ll be sent to live at a Ministry residence under Auror supervision.

The Ministry has agreed to open Harry’s records and for them to be placed into orphan status so that there’s a potential of him being adopted by a much more loving family.

In the meantime, the Boy-Who-Lived that ran away will be in the Ministry’s care.

_Do you want to donate to Harry Potter? Send gifts, currency, & more to the Daily Prophet! We’ll be sending everything we get straight to the Ministry to be hand delivered to the Boy-Who-Lived!_

* * *

 

Trinity Lane is a long, thin road that stretches out into the endless countryside. Yet, it’s basically a small community. A bus comes through to pick up the children of the farmers, driving them into town for school. Mail comes only twice a week, delivered by the elderly postman who is invited in for tea at every house he stops. Near the end of the road, when Trinity Lane splits three ways, there’s a deserted lot. A cottage from long ago, left to rot, with overgrown grass and mostly destroyed iron fence.

Or, well, so the muggles of Trinity Lane believed…

13 Trinity Lane, protected by a thick wrapping of powerful Ministry provided wards, is a beautiful red brick home. A greenhouse stands next to the home itself. There’s flowerbeds around the home. A cobblestone path leading up to the front door. A large tree in the backyard. And it’s Harry Potter’s home.

He lives in the house all alone.

Harry wakes up in the morning to silence. He makes his own breakfast. Sometimes, he just makes himself a bowl of cereal. Mostly he cooks, so when the Auror comes by to check on him, there’s enough missing in the cupboards to take him shopping. He’ll turn on the radio and listen to the muggle music while he cooks and eats. Then, he’ll just clean. He dusts, he does dishes, he reorganizes, he pushes furniture around, shoves his dirty laundry into the washer and dryer. He’s always done before lunchtime. So he’ll just read, zone off, and come up with new questions to ask the Auror when they come by next. Then it’s lunchtime. Again, he normally cooks, but occasionally he does just make a sandwich. He’ll go outside, after, to visit his greenhouse and tend to the flowerbeds. Once a week, he cuts the grass and trims the cobblestone path. He’ll come back inside, sweaty and dirty. He’ll take a shower, get into his pajamas, then he’ll make dinner.

It’s a set schedule and- Harry loves it.

Living in this house, all alone, is the best time Harry’s had his entire life.

Harry still can’t believe he was missing out on the world of magic for so long. He can’t believe he was kept from not just magic, but an entire world of people who love him and adore him. When he’s taken shopping, he gets smiles and compliments, and discounts, and they always think just a single thank you from him is the best thing he could ever do.

He has new glasses, now. Gold frame with enchanted lenses to darken when it’s too sunny out. He can actually see, better than he ever had before. He wears clothes that fit him, too. He eats three meals a day and it’s easy to forget the feeling of being hungry. He sleeps on an actual bed, in a full-sized bedroom. He can listen to whatever he wants on the radio. While there might not be any TV or some other technology his relatives had, it’s all so much better.

Reading is still terrible, but it’s better. He can sit down and just read. He can focus on every word and take the time to try to understand. It’s something he never was able to do before.

The Auror that watches over him helped, a lot.

Veronica Re Derrickson is a halfblood witch. She was the one who first found in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry was happy to find out that she was the one assigned to handling him and his case. She comes by on Tuesdays and Fridays. She checks on him, takes him shopping, and keeps him updated on the state of his case.

Like, for instance, that his aunt and uncle were recently Obliviated after being found guilty in Wizengamot. They hadn’t attended their trial, of course, but even if they had, it wouldn’t have done a thing.

Harry thinks he should care more than his aunt and uncle and cousin won’t recognize him if they look into his eyes, but he really doesn’t. He’s too happy, here.

Derrickson is the closest thing to a friend Harry’s ever had.

A week into his arrival at 13 Trinity Lane, Derrickson brought with her sacks full of mail. Letters, mostly, but there was also loads of gifts. Books, candies, and more were all packaged and sent to the Daily Prophet to be sent to him. She had said, “The gold they sent you were deposited into your vault by the Ministry on your behalf.”

Harry couldn’t believe how many people liked him enough to just send him stuff. Well, then, he couldn’t believe it. Now he can, he’s become a little accustomed to it now. Though it’s normally very suffocating, he can’t help but enjoy the attention.

He hasn’t seen the animal since it brought him to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry doesn’t care so much, too grateful to the animal to wonder what it’s doing. Clearly, it’s some benevolent magical creature. Though, Harry just told the Aurors that he was lost and saw the pub instead of admitting something lead him inside.

His gut had still been screaming not to admit he was seeing things. Now, he doesn’t want to admit that he got the attention an unknown magical creature.

It’s Friday, at about 2 o’clock, when Harry hears the pop of Derrickson’s arrival. He’s inside of the greenhouse, watering his asphodel plant. He has a book propped open against the long clay pot where his tomato plants are growing, showing the page about the same plant that he’s currently watering.

He waits for her to come find him. It barely takes a minute before the greenhouse door opens and she walks inside.

Derrickson whistles. “Kid, you’ve got a future as a farmer.” She says. “Or a herbologist.”

Harry frowns. He can’t get any purely magical plants to grow, he’s noticed. They grow better if he leaves the seeds for them as far away from himself as possible. He suspects he just needs to learn a gentler touch. He’s already struggling with the non-magical and partially magical plants.

“I want to get more fertilizer when we go to Diagon Alley today.” Harry says.

“Well, it’s going to be pretty busy today.” Derrickson replies. She pauses by a hanging flower pot and looks at it. The plant’s dead. “Merlin. It’s like Death walked through here. Anyways, we’ve got a lot to shop for today. Guess what I was given today?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know.” He says.

“Your acceptance letter!” She says happily. She pulls an envelope out of her robes. The edges are a little bent and the wax seal is already broken. When she holds it out, Harry takes it like it’s going to disintegrate in his hands. “Bet you’ve been waiting for this.”

“I’m excited to go.” Harry agrees.

“Be nice for you to have friends, instead of plants.” Derrickson says.

Harry pulls the pieces of parchment out from inside the envelope. “I’m going to go change.” He says. “Then we can go!”

Derrickson nods and Harry runs past her, nearly skipping with every step. When he’s gone, she scans over the greenhouse with a fading smile. Then, she follows.

* * *

 

Diagon Alley is even busier than normal. Harry stays tucked against Derrickson’s side. Still, he waves at the occasional witch or wizard. He knows some of them, even, by name, though mostly by face. People who run a lot of the shops in Diagon Alley and all love it when Harry stops by. Sadly, today they have a set list. The Auror doesn’t plan on wasting any time, when normally she lets Harry just bounce around aimlessly.

“What’s the first thing on the list?” Derrickson asks.

“Um, robes.” Harry answers. “I already have loads of robes. Do I really need more?”

“The clothes you have right now are primarily for spring and summer wear. You’ll need things suited for the winter.” She says. “Hogwarts uniforms adhere to a strict standard, too.”

Harry nods. “Alright.” He says. “Where do we go for them, then?”

“Madam Malkins.” Derrickson says.

So, they go to Madam Malkins. He’s sent up onto a stool where he’s measured. Derrickson orders his school clothes – five plain black robes, a pointed hat, two pairs of dragon hide gloves, two winter cloaks – before he’s brought over to a couch so his feet could be sized for winter shoes.

He’s sitting, barefoot, when a large family comes into the shop.

Or, well, he guesses they are a family. They all look awfully similar.

Derrickson, leaning against the wall near him, scowls. “Weasley’s.” She mutters, under her breath.

Harry looks up at her. “What’s wrong with them?” He asks.

“Nothing’s wrong with them, really.” Derrickson says. “They just have a little bit of a reputation.” She shrugs, a strange look over her face. “I don’t understand why…” She trails off slow, as if she had forgotten she wasn’t alone. “I think I’ll let us stop for ice cream today. Would you like that?”

“Yes!” Harry says, grinning. He barely notices the subject change, but he doesn’t care.

They finish at Madam Malkins. Harry’s new clothes would be sent via owl – meaning to the Ministry, for a brief inspection, before they arrived to him – as well as the shoes he ordered. They are leaving just as the family’s being ushered in further for one of the children to be sized. The mother of the family is holding up a faded black robe as Harry walks out of the front door.

The next stop is the bookshop.

Harry happily finds all of the mandatory titles for school. During the search for the books listed, he also picks out random books with titles that sound interesting. He has a lot of books that he has to read through yet, he takes a lot of time to actually read through a book, but he likes the feeling of just buying stuff. Derrickson tends to limit his spending – the Ministry provides him with a monthly budget – and only allows him to splurge on certain items that she deems beneficial, like books.

“What do you care about mythology?” Derrickson questions, pulling a book out of Harry’s basket. “’ _1001 Magical Myths That Have Been Nearly Proven_ ’? Harry, have you even finished your book on that Greek homage thing?”

“It’s Homer’s Odyssey.” Harry tells her. “And yes!” Not really, but he doesn’t really want to admit that to her. He’s almost done, kind of.

She shrugs and drops the book back into the basket. “When I was your age, I was more interested in Quidditch.” She says.

“I barely know what Quidditch is.” Harry says. “Brooms for first years aren’t even allowed at Hogwarts, so what’s the point? I’m there most of the year.”

“You’ll know what it is.” Derrickson says. “When you’re at Hogwarts, you’ll know.”

After the bookshop, they bounce store to store. A telescope then a cauldron, scales, and phials are purchased before, finally, the last thing on the list.

“A wand!” Harry says, smiling wide. He feels like he had almost forgotten, but that’s fine.

Derrickson nods. “The sun is setting.” She says. “We better hurry.”


	2. Part I. Chapter II

Harry walks into Ollivander’s with Auror Derrickson right behind him. He swallows the spit in his mouth as he looks around the dusty, cramped shop. No one else is inside, at least. He suspects many people had already rushed in to get their wands as soon as they could.

The old man behind the counter smiles warmly as they enter inside.

“Ah, Miss Derrickson. It’s been a long time.” The old man greets, voice soft and melodic. “How’s your wand?”

“I polish once a week.” She says.

“Yes, yes. Fine wand. Red oak, nine and ¼ inch long, unicorn hair core. Beautiful, beautiful, wand.” The old man rattles, so eagerly and joyfully, it’s evident from his voice to even his wrinkled face. “Such a nice, rare wood. But, of course, I’ve sold plenty of red oak wands in my time.”  He nods, then nods again, before he looks down from Derrickson to Harry. “And who might you be?”

“Harry, sir.” Harry says.

“Harry Potter, I presume?” The old man asks. Harry nods. “I’ve been waiting for the day you’d come to me for your first wand.” He leans over the counter and stares, as though he was attempting to look a little deeper into the boy. “I think, yes, I think I know what will suit you, young man…But first!” He comes out around the corner.

First, the old man measures Harry. His arms, his legs, even the length of the bridge of his nose. He goes around and around, using about a half-dozen of enchanted measuring tapes. When all is done, when Derrickson has taken a place against the wall to watch, and when the old man finishes off measuring the space on Harry’s forehead, the old man – presumably Ollivander – happily goes back around the counter to begin picking out wands.

“Yes, yes…Try redwood, ten inches, with a dragon heartstring core. It’s a good wand, for those who are lucky.” Ollivander tells Harry as he holds out a box, with a wand laying neatly inside.

Harry picks up the wand and barely holds it for a second before the old man yells, “Nope!” And yanks it right out of Harry’s hand.

They try a rowan wand. Then there’s an ebony wand and a chestnut wand. It goes on and on, Ollivander pulling wands before and incidents like something exploding or falling off of a shelf when Ollivander doesn’t yank it away right off the bat. Before, finally, Ollivander drops a holly wand right into his hand and says, “We’re getting closer, yes…I wonder…” He carries the wand back into its box.

The next wand Ollivander hands Harry, he seems to give out with hesitation. He looks down at Harry, with wide, expectant eyes. “Eleven inches, holly wood, with a phoenix feather core.” He says. “Go on, young man, give it a try.”

Harry’s hand wraps around the wand’s handle. He feels energy tickle around his fingers just before bright gold and red sparks fly out of the tip. His eyes go wide and he watches as the stream of sparks go on and on, until it seems the wand decides it has made its point.

Ollivander beams down at Harry. “Mr. Potter,” He breathes. “I had thought, yes…” He nods. “I cannot say how I feel, whether I am surprised or not.”

“I don’t understand.” Harry says.

“Well, Mr. Potter, every wand is make uniquely. However, every now and then, wands share materials. Wood, of course, but that’s just the body. Its heart, is the core.” Ollivander explains, so soft. “It just so happens that the very phoenix that gave its feather for your wand, also gave another. When two wands share a core, they become brothers. It’s like…Sharing blood.”

“I still don’t understand, sir. Someone else has my wand’s brother?” Harry asks.

Ollivander nods. “Yes, Mr. Potter. Thirteen and a half inches, made of yew wood with, of course, a phoenix feather core.” He says. “I had assumed…I would never sell its brother…I’ll have to expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…”

“Who owns my wand’s brother?” Harry asks. “Why-?”

“Mr. Potter,” Ollivander cuts him off, leaning over down close he’s like a storm cloud over a prairie. “The wizard who wields your wand’s brother is none other than the wizard who gave you that scar.” He points right at Harry’s forehead. It stays there as he continues. “I’ll be expecting great things from you, Mr. Potter, yes, indeed…You-Know-Who did great things, you see. Terrible, oh yes, very terrible. But great.”

Derrickson appears very close behind Harry. Her hand settles on Harry’s shoulder. “We’ll be paying now, Ollivander.” She says.

The old man stands up straight. “Always were so paranoid.” He says. “Quite the personality match for your wand, eh?” He chuckles.

They pay. As they leave, Harry cradles the box containing his wand. He can’t get rid of the strange feeling in his stomach. He wonders what it means, for him to wield the brother to the wand of the Dark Lord who killed his parents.

Derrickson follows with her earlier promise of ice cream. Harry orders the day’s special – Chocolate Frog Sundae Surprise – while Derrickson gets a lemon flavored ice lolly dunked in chocolate.

As they eat at a small table a little more secluded than most of the others, Harry keeps a hand over the box with his wand inside. They are eating in silence until Derrickson speaks up.

“Don’t mind Ollivander.” She says. “He’s eccentric. Very _strange_. Having a brother wand doesn’t mean anything-“

“If it didn’t mean anything, why would he say anything?” Harry asks. He breaks open the struggling Chocolate Frog, with the enchantment over it fading.

She sighs. “You’re right.” She admits. “I just don’t want you feeling bad about it.”

“I want to go back to the bookstore.” Harry tells her. “I want to find a book on wands.”

“Alright.” Derrickson says. She pauses, looking at the melting chocolate off of her lolly. Then she looks right back at Harry. “Don’t ever tell anyone about this whole brother wand thing, okay? People…People assume things.”

Harry pauses, but he nods. “Okay.” He says.

The visit to Diagon Alley ends with Harry coming out of Flourish and Blotts with two more books. Derrickson Apparates them back to 13 Trinity Lane just as the sun seems to have set.

* * *

With the institution of the International Statute of Secrecy, a number of laws become commonplace throughout the whole of the Wizarding World. Most communities also agreed a number of other matters related to secrecy, such as disallowing magic for those under the age of magical maturity. Which, they decided, came at the age of seventeen. There’s also a bunch of other laws they put in related to the Statute of Secrecy, but Harry didn’t really care about learning about them.

He kind of hated the no magic rule, though.

Alone on 13 Trinity Lane, Harry reads. He goes through his textbooks and finds spell after spell he wishes he could practice, but he can’t. He touches his wand and polishes it probably too much, but he doesn’t really care. He swears he can feel similar restlessness in the wand as he does in himself.

Sitting in the living room, with the radio turned on but volume kept low, Harry balances a book on his lap while he absentmindedly twirls his wand around in his right hand. It’s nighttime, well past the hour he should be in bed. His dinner plate is on the coffee table, food half-eaten, as well as an empty glass with a ring of drying milk on the bottom.

In the book, Harry reads;

…wands are unique. Every wand is crafted slightly differently, because every wand has a different set of materials. It’s impossible to make two identical wands. There are, however, ways for wands to be similar. Two wands made out of the same block of wood from the same tree, for instance, will be similar. They will be different, though, due to their core and even when they were made. The closest two wands can be to each other is when they share the same, or close to the same, core.

Two hairs taken from two unicorn will have no relation to each other and the magic in them will care not for the other, but two hairs taken from the same unicorn will always recognize each other. The natural magic in both hairs will, over time, mix with the wood in their wand and who so wields their wand. Still, they will always recognize a relative. After all, once upon a time, these two hairs were basically one in the tail of a unicorn. These wands are, then, brothers. Brother wands, wands whose cores come from the same place exactly, will share a bond.

Normally, when one wand chooses an wielder, the other wand will recognize the same as their own. This makes it nearly impossible for brother wands to be owned by two separate people. Often, brother wands are owned by couples or very close friends…

Harry frowns and squints down at the page.

“What utter nonsense.” Harry decides. He snaps the book shut and drops it to the floor. He sighs and folds his arms.

He looks around and wishes there was someone to talk to. Even if it was just the animal back for a brief visit to stare at him, he wouldn’t mind.

Harry can’t wait to attend Hogwarts. At least there’ll be other people to talk to.


	3. Part I. Chapter III

13 Trinity Lane used to belong to an elderly wizard. He was a very isolated man. He ignored all inquiries from the Ministry about taxes and all letters from Gringotts about the annual fee on his mostly-empty vault. When he died, his children wanted nothing to do with his estate. So, the Ministry seized the house and his vault was depleted then closed. The property was tossed department to department in the Ministry, until it was finally given a purpose.

In 1991, when the Boy-Who-Lived was made a ward of the Ministry. The muggle world was deemed unfit and dangerous to Harry Potter and the boy’s closest magical relatives were nowhere close enough to justify handing him off. Harry Potter’s parents’ had left precise instructions regarding custody. With all three of the possible guardian candidates either dead, in Azkaban, or as unfit as the muggles were, Harry Potter would have be sent somewhere by the Ministry to live.

They chose 13 Trinity Lane. It was given new wards and new furniture, then Harry was dropped off by his case handler, Auror Veronica Re Derrickson. He was visited twice a week to be taken shopping for essentials, given a weekly allowance out of the Ministry’s own pocket. His estate, handed down to him by his parents, was frozen until he either is warded emancipation or turns seventeen.

Harry’s lived in 13 Trinity for nearly five months and it’s already become his home. He’s grown used to the routine, to the silence. His schedule, so perfectly set, is now gone to the dust. He’ll have a new one, maybe, or it’ll be like being with the Dursley’s again. Every day something different, with new anxieties and people screaming.

Only, he wonders if it’ll just be like living on 13 Trinity Lane with a lot more people. He doesn’t think there’s very many people in the magical world that doesn’t love him.

Derrickson picks him up on September 1st. Harry is dressed in his robes for school with his luggage packed. His trunk is packed. He barely managed to close it earlier. It’s stuffed full of more clothes and books than he probably needs. He doubts he’ll even be able to read as much as he has stuffed away, but it’s a soothing thought to have as many as possible with him.

He says goodbye to the plants in his greenhouse first. Derrickson says, “I’ll take care of them while you’re away.” Like it’s part of her job description, but Harry knows she’s just being nice.

Before Derrickson, before this magical world, he’s never anyone do something for him just to be nice.

He says, “Thank you.”

She apparates them right onto Platform 9 ¾. It’s early and Harry thinks that must be why it isn’t very crowded yet. There are bubbles of people dotted across the platform, mostly kids with their families still saying goodbyes and promising to write.

“What class do you think will be the best at Hogwarts?” Harry asks her, setting the trunk onto the ground.

“I liked transfiguration.” Derrickson says. “My best class, but my favorite was probably potions. It’s like cooking.”

“Cooking is okay.” Harry says. “What House were you in?”

Derrickson shrugs. “Houses aren’t that important, Harry. Don’t worry yourself about it.” She says, followed by a brief pause. “I was a Hufflepuff.” She says.

“I don’t know what House I want to be in.” Harry says.

“Don’t go in with what you want to be, Harry.” Derrickson says. “That’s what the Sorting Ceremony is for. It’ll take you where you’re meant to go, not where you want to go.”

Harry nods. “Yes, ma’am.” He says, sounding a little cheerful. It sounds so easy, that way, instead of the vague description the book he read gave him.

“Let’s get you on the train.” Derrickson says. “I’ve some things to do today.”

Fifteen minutes later, Auror Derrickson says goodbye. Harry tells her he’ll write to her and she smiles, but doesn’t respond. His trunk is stored away and Harry sits on a bench, feeling a little bored and just as alone as he did on 13 Trinity Lane.

Harry ends up pulling a book out of his trunk. It’s rather difficult, but he manages. He settles back onto the bed, draws his legs up close, and knocks the book open. He had chosen at random and finds himself not feeling any disappointment as he begins to read One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

He’s going to miss his greenhouse, but at least he’ll be with more people now. More than just twice a week.

Harry’s reading about devil’s snare when someone interrupts.

A redheaded boy with a smudge on his nose stands there, looking a little lost. “Is it okay if I sit with you?” He asks. “There’s no more empty compartments.”

Harry glances out the window he’s sitting by and sees the platform, previously rather empty, is now filled with as many people as in Diagon Alley on a busy Saturday. He looks back towards the boy and says, “Yeah!” Maybe a little too excited, but, well.

He doesn’t think he’s talked to someone his age in months.

“My name’s Ron Weasley.” The boy introduces himself as he sits down, sighing out softly. Unlike Harry, he isn’t already dressed in his school uniform. The color on his clothes seem a little faded and his shoes look too big compared to the rest of his body.

Harry smiles. “My name’s Harry.” He says. He hesitates. Ron notices. So, Harry continues, “Harry Potter. It’s nice to meet you.”

As expected, red headed Ron Weasley’s eyes widen comically. “No way.” He breathes. “Like, the Harry Potter?” He asks.

“Yeah.” Harry says, nodding. “I’m probably not the only Harry Potter. Harry isn’t a rare name. So. I’m a Harry Potter.”

“Blimey.” Ron says. “I can’t believe it! I knew you were going to be in the same year as me, but I didn’t think I’d get to meet you!”

Harry closes his book and sits it to the side. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” He says. He swings his feet and looks at Ron, a little intently.

“Do you remember any of it? I mean…You-Know-Who and what not.” Ron asks, leaning forward a little with wide eyes. He glances at Will’s forehead, but looks back down into Harry’s eyes.

“No.” Harry says. “I don’t remember any of it at all. He reaches up and lifts his bangs – nearly long enough to part, now – up to show the lightning bolt shaped scar. “I used to think that it was some an accident, not You-Know-Who.”

Ron nods. “Muggles.” He says. “We, I mean my family and me, read about it in the Daily Prophet and all. It has to be pretty weird, knowing that everyone knows who you are and you…don’t know anyone.”

“Yeah.” Harry agrees. “But it’s fine. I’ve gotten used to it and, I’ve learned a lot about the wizarding world and stuff.”

“Bet so. My dad loves muggles, but my mom says there isn’t anything special about them.” Ron says. He pauses, then continues on.“Do you know what House you want to be in?” He asks.

“I don’t think I care which one.” Harry admits.

“What if you were in Slytherin?” Ron asks, shaking his head. “I hope I’m in Gryffindor. Merlin, I don’t know what I’d do if I was in Hufflepuff or, worse, Slytherin.”

Derrickson was a Hufflepuff.

Harry frowns. “I don’t think it matters very much, what House you’re in.” He insists though, fine, he’s been thinking about it for a while. He wants to be a Hufflepuff, like Derrickson, or a Gryffindor like his parents had been. He doesn’t want to admit that though.

“Well, it does to me.” Ron says, though it’s lower voiced and drawn out strangely.

A silence settles over them in the compartment. Harry fiddles with the cloth of his robes. His chest constricts.

“If I had to choose, I think I’d choose Hufflepuff.” Harry says.

“Oh.” Ron says. “Um, I mean, that’s cool!” He quickly adds. “I didn’t mean to insult Hufflepuffs or anything! It’s just…Well, my brothers say Hufflepuffs are kind of lame.”

“I know a Hufflepuff that’s an Auror. I don’t think Aurors are very lame.” Harry says.

“They aren’t.” Ron agrees, bobbing his head up and down.

The silence returns.

Ron looks at the book next to Harry. “What were you reading?” He asks.

“’One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi’.” Harry says. He picks the book up and shows Ron. “It’s one of our textbooks for the year. I like it, though. I have a greenhouse back home.” He says. “I’m not very good at growing stuff, but I’m hoping maybe our Herbology class will help with that.”

“My mom has a vegetable garden.” Ron says.

Harry perks up. “Do you help her with it?” He asks, becoming excited.

“Er, no.” Ron says.

“Oh.” Harry flattens back down again.  “It’s a lot of fun, you know. The plants like to die on me a lot and it’s really hard to get stuff to grow, but it can happen! And it’s really cool when the flowers bloom or stuff grows…” He trails, realizing quickly that Ron isn’t interested.

They remain in uncomfortable silence until a lady appears. “Anything off the cart, dears?” She asks, peering at them both with a serene, strange smile.

Harry nods. “Yes, please.” He says. He pulls a small pouch from his robes pocket and unties the opening, standing up to get closer. “Um, get I get a box of Every Flavor Beans..” He looks over the selection of sweets.

He glances back at Ron, who looks like he wants to get something himself. “Are you going to get anything?” He asks the red head.

“Oh, um, no.” Ron says. “My mum packed me a lunch.”

Harry remembers when Aunt Petunia packed him a lunch. He looks back at the cart and decides to just get a handful of each. He pays her eleven sickles and seven knuts, dropping the haul off onto his seat while she pushes on to the next compartment.

“Hungry?” Ron asks.

“I thought we could share.” Harry says with a smile. He hands out two Chocolate Frogs to the red headed boy. “Go on,” He says. “I’m not going to bite.”

Ron hesitantly takes one, but Harry keeps his hand out until Ron takes the second, too. “Take however much you want.” Harry says. “I got a whole bunch.”

“Alright.” Ron says, sounding a little quiet. Looking at Harry with wide eyes, like he just can’t believe it.

Harry’s ripping into a box of the Every Flavor Beans when Ron proclaims, “I got Albus Dumbledore. You want him?” He asks. “I’ve already got multiples of him.”

“Me, too.” Harry says. “Just keep it. Maybe you’ll luck out and find someone in desperate need for it.”

Ron snorts. “He’s super common.” He says. His next card is Herpo the Foul.

Soon, they begin to actually talk. They share beans and gag, giggle, or even enjoy each one.

Before long, though, the compartment door slides open. Just as Harry spitting out a bean flavored like burnt popcorn, the taste coming up to his nose as a smell. He gags and thinks he might vomit, while Ron laughs.

“Excuse me,” A bushy-haired, buck-toothed girl stands there. She looks at Harryra with obvious disgust, looking down to the floor where the spat out jelly bean lays. She breathes in deep then continues. “Have you seen a toad anywhere? Neville’s lost one.”

Harry shakes his head. He picks up a Chocolate Frog and hands it out to her. “I have this.” He says.

She scowls.

The boy behind her, presumably Neville, peaks in. “I’ve lost him.” He says miserably.

“He’ll probably turn up somewhere around here.” Harry reassures. “Maybe you should tell an adult.”

The girl squints at him, then nods. “You’re right. Come on Neville. There’s got to be someone on this train that can help.” She says. Just before she leaves, she tells him, “We’re getting awfully close. You might want to get into your robes,” She glances at Ron. “If you haven’t yet.”

The compartment door slides shut. Just as soon as they were here, they were gone. Harry shrugs.

He opens up the Chocolate Frog. However, the chocolate frog hops down to the floor and slides underneath the bench. He and Ron share a groan. “Rotten luck, mate.” Ron says. He glances towards the now shut compartment door and says, “If I was him, I wouldn’t complain much about losing my toad. Though, I can’t say much. All I’ve got is Scabbers.”

“Scabbers?” Harry asks as he pulls out the card.

Ron nods. He reaches inside of his jacket and pulls out— a rat. “This is Scabbers. He used to my brother’s.” He says, sounding rather sour. “Everything I’ve got used to belong to one of my brother’s. I’ve got Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.”

“How many brothers do you have?” Harry asks. “Just those three?”

“I wish.” Ron says. “I’ve got five. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, and George. Then I’ve got my little sister. Thank Merlin I don’t have to share anything with her.” He lays the snoozing rat on his lap. “There’s a lot of us, so my parents can’t…” He trails off.

“It’s okay.” Harry says. “I didn’t have very much until I learned I was a wizard. I know what it’s like. To not have a lot.”

Ron looks down at Scabbers. Harry tells him, “I think it’s nice to have a big family, even if you don’t have much. At least you have people who love you, right?” He shrugs. “My muggle relatives didn’t care much for me and now…Well, I don’t have anyone, really. Except for the Auror who takes care of me.”

“I guess.” Ron says.

Harry smiles. “I hope we’re in the same House.” He says. “You’re a nice friend.”

“Really?” Ron asks, eyes brightening. Harry nods. Ron seems to try to hold back a beaming smile, but the try fails.

A voice rings through the entire train, then, interrupting Harry’s possible response. “We’ll be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train. It’ll be taken to the school separately.”

Ron curses and jumps up. “Ought to change.” He says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this is basically a filler chapter, but believe me!! every little development means something in the big picture.


	4. Part I. Chapter IV

The train is slowing – (“We’ll be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage behind. It will be taken inside separately for you.”) – as Harry stuffs his herbology book back into his trunk. Ron has changed, with Scabbers sleeping in his pocket once again – Harry can see Scabbers’ wormlike tail hanging out of it. Ron looks very impatient and Harry doesn’t blame him. He feels excited himself, but if he learned anything from that animal and living with the Dursley’s, it’s how to wait. The more he thinks about something happening, the slower time feels.

He places his hands on top of the trunk and pushes himself up. “Are you ready?” Harry asks.

Ron fiddles with his robe clasp. “I think so.” He says. “I dunno…I’m feeling…” He pauses, glancing up at Harry with hesitance dripping over him. Harry just looks at Ron expectantly, meeting the other boy’s eyes. “I’m feeling nervous.” Ron says. “I’m scared I’m going to end up Slytherin and end up an outcast in my family.”

The face that comes over Ron is one of shock. Like he hadn’t intended to say anything about being so anxious, or at least why.

Harry knows what it’s like to be an outcast to your own family, so he nods and says, “I get it. But don’t worry. I mean…Even if they don’t like it, Slytherin can’t be all bad. I read Merlin was in it.”

“No way Merlin was a Slytherin.” Ron says, frowning.

“It’s in a history book about Hogwarts.” Harry says. “If Merlin was in Slytherin, the House can’t be, like…inherently bad.”

“You-Know-Who was in Slytherin.” Ron says and tugs on the fabric of his robes, frowning. “And so were, like, all of his followers.”

“That can’t be true.” Harry says. “Why would the House still exist, then?”

Ron shrugs. He doesn’t answer Harry’s question, just turns his head and looks out the window. “I think we’re here.” He says.

The train comes to a stop, then.

Harry and Ron cram their pockets with what was left of the sweets Harry purchased, which honestly wasn’t very much. They ate an awful lot of the junk.

The two boys exited the compartment into the cramped corridor, brushing and shoving against other students. Eventually, Ron then Harry stumble out onto the train platform. Surrounded by what feels like hundreds of people, they get pushed around and struggle to keep their footing while they all slowly spread out.

A lamp comes bobbing over heads, accompanied by a loud shout, “Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” A big hairy face looms over, behind the lamp and well above the sea of heads.

In the dark with little light, Harry can vaguely make out a giant, hairy man wearing a long coat and holding the lamp up so high it’s like it’s a lamppost.

“C’mon, follow me! Any more firs’ years? Mind yer step now! Firs’ years, follow me!” The giant man continues to yell.

Harry and Ron join the other first years, following Hagrid down a steep, narrow path. Cautiously, Harry grabs onto Ron’s robes when it looks like Ron might slip. He ends up just holding him, huddled close next to him. It’s shockingly easy to trust Ron, Harry thinks, and he likes being able to just aimlessly look around while allowing Ron’s walk forward to guide him.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec.” The giant man tells them, talking over his shoulder.  “Jus’ round this bend here.”

They walk and, suddenly, the narrow path opens up onto the edge of a great black lake. Far ahead, on top of a high mountain across the lake, is a ginormous castle with windows sparkling so bright and so high and far in the distance that they look like stars.

“Woah.” Harry breathes, wide eyed.

He doesn’t know what he expected Hogwarts to look like, but it looks amazing.

“No more’n four to a boat!” The giant man tells them, gesturing to a small fleet of little boats sitting in the water close to the shore.

Harry lets go of Ron’s robes, but follows him into a boat. Ron beams at him, and Harry returns it.

The boy who had lost his toad on the train, Neville, joins them with the bushy-haired girl that had been helping him look. Harry smiles at them and waves weakly.

“FORWARD!”

Harry’s skin sings and his hair stands at the booming order, combined with the sudden push of the boats starting to float across the water seemingly by their own command.

Magic never does fail to amaze him.

As the boats glide across the still water, Harry watches the castle. It just gets bigger and bigger looking the closer they get. He leans to his side and whispers to Ron, “How many students do you think attend Hogwarts?”

Ron whispers back, “Mum says our year is going to be real small, but one of my brother’s said he’s never seen more witches and wizards together, not even in Diagon Alley, than in Hogwarts.”

Soon, the boats move underneath castle – moving into an opening the cliff face, right after the giant man yelled out to duck their heads.

When Harry lifts his head back up, he looks around in continued amazement. They’ve seem to gone directly underneath, entering out into another shore. The boats come to a stop at a makeshift harbor, where they all climb out onto rocks and pebbles.

Ron and Harry, and the others, clamber up a passageway in the rock after the giant man as he leads them now seemingly into the castle. Only, instead of entering a castle corridor, they all walk out onto smooth, wet grass right in the castle’s shadow.

Harry grabs onto Ron’s robes again. Ron glances at Harry, opens his mouth briefly before he just closes it and looks away, back towards the giant man.

The group continue forward. They come to a flight of stone steps and ascend. They crowd in front of the huge, oak front door.

“Everyone here?” The giant man questions, turning his head and doing a quick sweep. “You there, still got yer toad?”

Neville the Toad Boy jerks his head up and down.

The giant man then raises a fist about the size of Harry’s head and knocks three times on the door. It swings open at once, but slowly. A tall witch stands inside, just past the door’s reach as it opens. Her stern face reminds Harry of one of the Aurors that had interviewed him, when he was first taken into the Ministry of Magic after being found at the Leaky Cauldron.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall.” The giant man tells her.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.” She says. She grasps the door and pushes it open even wider, walking deeper  into the castle’s entrance hall. The room’s so big, Harry believes he could fit his entire home inside.

Professor McGonagall leads them across the flagged stone floor. As they walk, Harry starts to hear the chatter of what be the other students. He glances towards the doorway that appears to be where the noise is emitting from, but the witch doesn’t take them to it. Instead, she leaks them into a small, empty chamber right off of the hall.

Harry squeezes Ron’s robes a little tighter, but does let them go. He just sticks close to Ron, not noticeable since everyone is crammed against each other, closer than they would normally allow themselves be next to someone else.

The witch stands before them and begins to talk.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.” She says, sweepingly looking over them. “The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.”

Harry glances at Ron, who isn’t looking at him.

“The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will have points taken away.” She pauses, taking in a short breath. “At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup. It’s a great honor.”

She brings her hands up and folds them together in front of herself. “The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” She glances towards the Toad Boy’s robes which are buttoned underneath his nose then towards Ron’s nose, where there is some smudge on it.

Harry frowns.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” She says. “Please wait quietly.” She exits the chamber.

As soon as she’s out of view, Harry huffs over to Will, “Smarten ourselves.” He mimics nastily. It reminds him of Petunia, who shaved off his hair and tried desperately to make it calm. How many times had she tried to shave him bald?

Ron laughs mutely and nods his head. “Makes me think of mum.” He says, smiling.

Harry doesn’t think Ron understood what he meant, but before he say anything else something strange happens – about twenty ghosts come through the back wall, gliding across the room talking amongst each other. One of them immediately notices them, cutting himself mid-sentence to greet them.

“I say, what are you all doing here?” The ghost in tights and a ruff says. “New students!” He proclaims suddenly. “About to be sorted, I suppose?”

Some of the people nodded mutely, staring in shock.

Harry is one of them.

Ghosts – he had read about them, but he hadn’t known there were so many ghosts hanging around Hogwarts.

“Hope to see you in my House!” The ghost says. “I was in Hufflepuff, you know!”

McGonagall then returns. “Move along now,” She says sharply. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

The ghosts, one by one, float through the wall back out of the room.

Professor McGonagall puts them into a line and leads them back out of the small chamber, back across the hall towards the doorway Harry had glanced at earlier. This time, she opens the double doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could definitely have been SO much longer, but I honestly just wanted to put up another chapter lmao. I want to try to keep up the pattern of a once a week update on Thursday? So...here we are.
> 
> What House do you think Harry and Ron are going to end up in? Are you noticing the differences in personality, most notably in Harry? How about the small differences between this and canon? Killing a butterfly in Texas can lead to a tornado in Wisconsin.


	5. Part I. Chapter V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, unbetaed

The double doors swing open slow, revealing a magnificent room. Lit by what appears to be just thousands of candles floating over four long tables. The tables themselves were each nearly filled with the other students along the sides and glittering golden dishes on the tops. At the head of the hall, there was a fifth table that was much smaller than the other four. There, the teachers sat.

Professor McGonagall leads Harry and the other first years down between two towards, towards the head table. The Great Hall is quiet, except for the occasional whisper. The hundreds of students are all watching them, most of the pairs of eyes as wide as Harry and the others’ are.  

Harry hears someone whisper that the ceiling is bewitched, so he looks up. Velvety black and dotted with stars. He can’t help the statement of aw that falls out of him, “Beautiful.”

At the front of the Great Hall near the teachers’ table, McGonagall pulls out a four legged stool and sits it in front of the new students. She then places a raggedy old hat on top of it.

Harry gasped when a seam on the old hat opens, much like a mouth, and it began to bellow out a song.

“Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!“

And when the hat is all done with its song, the Great Hall erupts into loud applause. The pointed hat bows to each of the four tables before it stills once again.

“All we’ve got to do is try on the hat.” Ron whispers to Harry. “That doesn’t sound too bad, does it? My brother Fred told me I’d have to wrestle a troll.”

Harry nods. “A lot easier than wrestling a troll.” He whispers back.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.” McGonagall says.

Armed with a scroll, she begins to call out names. First, was a girl named Hannah Abbott who was sorted into Hufflepuff. After her, there was another Hufflepuff. Then there was two Ravenclaws and a Gryffindor, then a Slytherin. The sorting went on and on. First year after first year was called up to the stool. They were sorted and diligently went to the welcoming applause of their House.

The shouts from the hat began to become muffled, while Harry became distracted. He looks through the table, interested by the different kinds of students all mixed in. There didn’t seem to be one obvious trait in any of the tables.

Granger to Longbottom to MacDougal to Moon, on to ‘N’ names then to the ‘P’s. Harry still isn’t paying any attention.

The second Patil pops down onto the stool while Harry looks over the Slytherin table.

At the very end of the table, there sat on top of a dish, the animal.

Harry’s breath caught. He almost walked forward.

It looks at him. As it always does. It just stares.

He wonders if it wants him in Slytherin. He doesn’t think he has any choice in the matter, though. Maybe it’s just trying to tell him where he’s going to go, though he can’t guess why. It’s always only took him somewhere, guiding him, not just showing him.

“Potter, Harry!”

Harry’s drawn out of his own head. He swallows spit and walks forward.

McGonagall looks at him like she’s looked at any other student, though the hall has since erupted into whispers.

Harry almost forgets, sometimes, that he’s famous. He sits down on the stool while the hundreds of students look at him, wide-eyed and more curious than they’ve been throughout the night.

The hat drops over his eyes and he can’t see anyone – nor the animal – anymore.

“Hmm,” A small voice speaks up. “Difficult. Very difficult…”

Harry swallows. He didn’t realize the hat would speak to him. However, he waits. He thinks about the animal, sitting on the Slytherin table.

“I can’t see.” The hat mutters. “How strange. Tell me, boy, what do you think?”

“I don’t get it.” Harry whispers. “What am I supposed to be thinking?” His chest clenches. Is something wrong with him?

Suddenly, the hat quivers on top of his head. “Oh! Calm down, boy, calm down. You’re fine. I haven’t seen so much anarchy in a child’s mind in years, that’s all. Don’t be scared. Hogwarts will be your home now. And I have a place for you, boy, I can see that.” The small voice stops, silent for a second, before it finally shouts. “SLYTHERIN!”

The hat is pulled from Harry’s head. He stands. He glances over his shoulder and looks at Ron, staring wide-eyed at him. Harry offers a smile and hopes Ron follows him to the Slytherin House.

The hall politely claps while he walks down to the Slytherin table. The animal walks up the table and stops next to a blond boy. It sits in front of the boy. So, Harry sits in an empty spot across from the blond hair.

“You’re Harry Potter.” The blond boy whispers over to him, leaning closer. “Well, then. My name’s Draco Malfoy. It’s a pleasure.”

Harry smiles weakly at him. “Hello.” He says. He looks back to the hat and waits, for Ron’s name to be called. “It’s a pleasure, too.” He mutters, still looking over at McGonagall calling out the next name.

There were only four people left to be sorted. Harry resists the urge to tap his fingers, while the animal vanishes once again. It turning to smoke goes unseen by Harry, preoccupied with the hope that his friend will join him.

Ron came second to last. Harry bites his bottom lip as Ron sits on the stool. He meets the red headed boy’s eyes while McGonagall drops the hat over Ron’s head.

Then, Harry waits.

A heartbeat passes and the hat’s seam opens – and Harry’s chest clenches. Slytherin, he thinks and hopes with everything he can. His chest clenches a little tighter. The seam then closes. Harry tilts his head in curiosity. Maybe he had just thought he’d seen it move.

There are a few whispers through the Great Hall.

“I’ve never seen a Weasley take so long to get sorted.” Someone close by whispers.

“Slytherin, Slytherin,” Harry mutters so low that he can barely hear himself.

It takes three more heartbeats, though they start coming faster (and harder) in Harry’s chest, before the hat’s mouth-seam opens up again.

“SLYTHERIN!”

The Great Hall is so silent you could hear a pin drop. Even Professor McGonagall is looking at Ron with wide eyes. She picks up the hat and nods gently towards Ron.

Ron looks up at her, like he isn’t sure if he should move. McGonagall takes his hand and helps him up. She smiles at him and nods, mouth barely moving. She told Ron something. Harry wonders what.

But, finally, Ron is walking towards the Slytherin table. There is no polite applause, just stares, until Ron sits down next to Harry. Finally, a scattered clapping occurs.

McGonagall calls out for the last student to come be sorted. Blaise Zabini joins them in Slytherin, while Harry grabs onto Ron’s robes and gives the boy a giant grin.

“It wanted me in Gryffindor.” Ron whispers to him. “I- I don’t know why it put me here.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re here.” Harry whispers back.

At the teacher’s table, Albus Dumbledore stands. Harry’s only ever seen him on Chocolate Frog cards, but he doesn’t care much about paying attention. He’s rubbing his thumb into the fabric of Ron’s robes, so happy he can feel it burn underneath his skin.

He has his friend. An actual friend.

“Welcome! Welcome, to a new year at Hogwarts!” Dumbledore says. “Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!” He sits back down and the Great Hall erupts into claps and cheers.

Harry notes the Slytherin table at least has the decency to do so calmly.

“He’s a bit mad, isn’t he?” Harry asks no one in particular.

Draco Malfoy answers. “My father says so.” He glances over at Ron. “Are you really a Weasley? I heard your sort are far from the quality required for Slytherin.” He says.

Ron’s cheeks burn. The red is spreading to his neck when Harry says, “Well, he’s a Slytherin now, isn’t he? Aren’t Slytherin’s supposed to be good at making allies? You’re being too abrasive.” He narrows his eyes. “Maybe you’re not up to quality.” He says.

“I,” Draco opens his mouth. He snaps it shut. He leans back. “I guess you’re right. I’m sorry, Weasley.” He isn’t looking at Ron, though. He’s staring at Harry.

Ron is grabbing a bowl full of potatoes and dumping out a spoonful onto his plate.

Harry finds himself distracted from Draco when he realizes the table filled itself with food. He’s never seen so much food in once place before.

When Harry lived with the Dursley’s, it seemed he had only been given enough to survive. Living on his own on 13 Trinity Lane, Harry taught himself to indulge. He cooked his own food. He learned to make what he wanted to make, but he often found himself limited. He’s sloppy and content as long as what he makes turns out edible. Aunt Petunia cooked well, but Harry was never able to actually enjoy the food she made. When he takes a bite out of a pork chop, he decides the food is better here than anything he or his aunt will ever or has ever made.

“So, Potter, Weasley,” Draco Malfoy is talking again.

Harry looks up from his pork chop. Ron looks at Draco, too, chewing through a mouthful of steak.

“I’m actually surprised either one of you are in Slytherin.” Malfoy says. “But, since you are, I expect us to become good friends.”

Harry stares blankly at him. He doesn’t know why, but there’s something about Malfoy that doesn’t sit right with him. He doesn’t understand why the animal wanted him to sit by Malfoy, but, he guesses he should try to follow the animal’s guidance. It’s worked out so far.

Unsure what to say, to sound friendly, Harry just says, “Cool. I’m looking forward to it.”

Thankfully, Harry didn’t have to talk to Draco very much more. The Slytherin table becomes louder as everyone starts to enjoy their food. People talk and it just gets louder, mixing in with the noise the other tables are making. Ron and Harry talk, too, between mouthfuls of food.

“My mum’s going to lose her mind.” Ron says, stabbing his fork into another steak and bringing it to his plate. “I dunno what my dad’s going to say. Or, my brothers,” He looks ready to glance over, but he stops himself before his chin reaches his shoulder.

“Family won’t care.” Harry says.

Ron nods. He cuts into his new steak. “I hope so.” He says.

When dinner vanished, leaving plates as clean as they were before it arrived, and dessert appeared, the people around them start talking about their families.

They talk about their parents’ jobs. One’s father works in the Auror Office, another’s mother works for the Minister directly. Malfoy proudly says, “My father is a businessman.” And everyone looks at him like they know better, but Harry doesn’t quite understand their silent understanding.

Ron snorts when Malfoy says it, but Malfoy doesn’t seem to notice.

“What about you, Harry?” Malfoy questions, leaning over the table once again. “Didn’t you live with muggles?”

The other students close by who heard Malfoy suddenly quiet. All turning to Harry, watching.

“I did.” Harry says. “Not anymore, obviously.” He shrugs. “Everyone knows what happened, right? My muggle relatives weren’t…” He trails off. “They didn’t like magic. So I ran away and I ended up here.”

“Thank Merlin I’m not a halfblood.” An older student says next to him, helping herself to a piece of chocolate cake. “I don’t know what I’d do if someone made me live with muggles. You never hear anything good about them, you know.”

Harry thinks about the muggles. His relatives weren’t the best example, but he’s experienced some that weren’t…

As his mind trails off, he realizes that he hasn’t ever experienced much kindness from muggles at all. They look one look at his old clothes and wild hair, then decided he wasn’t worth any trouble. They listened to his aunt and uncle’s stories of him being a troublemaker, a wild child, and they decided he wasn’t worth any attempts to make better. He’s a lost cause. His parents died because of their own problems. Low-born, meant to be just like them.

Only, his parents weren’t low-born. They died protecting him.

Harry picks at a treacle tart on his plate. “I’m sure there’s some good muggles.” He says.

“You don’t need to defend them,” She says. “No one will judge you here, Potter.”

Eventually, too, the discussion of families and heritage and what everyone’s parents’ did dissolved. In the remnants, everyone began to discuss the classes for the new school year and the exams they’ll be taking at the end of the year, as well as the teachers.

“My mother knows Professor Snape.” Draco proclaims, chest puffing with pride. “He’s the Head of our House, you know!”

Harry glances up to the Head Table, towards the many teachers are eating and talking amongst themselves. A wizard with a turban, who Harry swears he’s seen before, is talking to another wizard, one with a hook-nose and greasy hair. “Which one is that?” He asks.

“The one talking to Professor Quirrell.” The young witch next to him says. “Quirrell is the one with the turban. A little freaky, if you ask me, but he is a good teacher. I had him last year for my O.W.L. class in Runes. This year he’s teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. Pity, too, we’re back to Babbling. She took a year off.” She talks merrily and Harry eagerly listens.

Ron finally talks, then, too. “He definitely looks freaky.” He says. “Snape looks a little off, too, though. My brothers, Fred and George that is, say he sucks toad.”

Draco folds his arms together. “What nonsense! Professor Snape is our Head of House. You should be more respectful.” He says.

Harry looks to Ron and squeezes his fist in the other young wizard’s robes. “Maybe he’ll treat us a little better than he does them, since we’re in his House.” He says.

“Hope so.” Ron says. He glances over to Professor Snape for barely a second before his eyes jump off.

“Snape teaches Potions.” The young witch beside Harry supplies then. “He wants to be the Defense teacher, but I reckon he does better in Potions. He’s amazing in the subject. Really strict for his standards on Potions, but that’s a good thing. Make sure you read some part of the book before you head in. He always chooses someone to victimize that first day with a pop quiz.”

Harry nods and turns to Ron. “Hopefully he won’t be our first class, then.” He says.

Ron agrees.

The desserts soon vanish, too, and the Headmaster stood again. The hall goes silent before he even begins to talk.

Dumbledore makes a soft coughing noise as though needed to gather their attention. “Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start of term notices to give you.” He says. “First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.”

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their House team should contact Madam Hooch. And, finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Harry feels like laughing, almost, but something in his gut rolls. It feels like a very serious warning, suddenly.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Dumbledore cries out with a big smile.

Dumbledore pulls out his wand and gives it a little flick. A golden ribbon blows out of the tip and rises high above the tables. It twists itself into words.

“Everyone pick their favorite tune! And off we go!” Dumbledore says.

The Great Hall bellows out,

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they’re bare and full of are,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we’ve forgot,

Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.”

Harry tries to keep up, but he loses track between trying to read the flowing ribbon changing along and becoming amused by some of the antics by the other students. For instance, it came down to two red-headed boys that Ron whispered to him to be his twin brother Fred and George. They finish the song last, to a slow funeral march.

“Ah, music,” Dumbledore wipes his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

The Head Boy, one who introduces himself as Abel Avery, takes over then. He instructs the boy first years to follow him, while the girls follow the Head Girl. They wait until the other Slytherins have left, before walking behind the respective leader in a misshapen line.

Avery leads them outside of the Great Hall to a simple door. Past it, is a stone staircase that takes them deeper down into the castle.

“Our common room, where you’re free to spend your free time, and dormitories are located in the dungeons.” Avery explains as he reaches the end of the staircase. “Our founder, Salazar Slytherin, prided himself in giving his students a secluded, pleasant, and luxurious place to rest and rejuvenate.”

He takes them across, now, to the right until reaches a bare stretch of wall. “Our entrance will always be here, but the castle does like to move things about a bit. Sometimes, they’ll be a portrait here or maybe an engraving upon the wall.” He says. “Just remember, the entrance is right by a crack in a stone.” He points down, where there is indeed, a crack, in the floor.

“To get in, we use a password. We change it every week. It’ll be posted in the common room every Sunday afternoon, so be sure to check.” Avery instructs them. “For now, the password is ‘new blood’.”

The wall opens up, then. Avery leads them inside.

Past the common room, where a few students do sit, and where the Head Girl is still talking to her set of first years. Avery had given them a head start.

They are taken into the dormitories, then.

“The seventh years have their rooms here at the uppermost level.” Avery explains. “Occasionally, you can get a room on a lower level by petition.” He does not explain how to petition for a room on the lower level. Instead, he takes them over to a staircase that spirals down. “You will all be at the lowest level.” Then, he begins to walk down the stairs.

After what seems like far too much stairs, they finally come out to the very end. The lowest level.

“There are seven you this year, so one of you will luck out.” Avery says. “There’s two to every room. Every room comes with enough for two, however there is only one bathroom. Work with each other over it. Otherwise, there is another bathroom at the end of the hall.” He points down, to a small door that looks like it would be more likely to lead into a closet than a bathroom. By the door is, also, an assortment of trunks.

Avery allows them to choose their own roommates. Harry and Ron team up together. At the end of it, Draco proudly claims one room for himself.

“Tomorrow morning before breakfast, we’ll all have a meeting in the common room. Professor Snape will introduce himself and hand out schedules.” Avery says. “As you can see, your trunks have been left on this floor. Feel free to take them whenever you wish. Goodnight.”

The Head Boy then leaves them alone.

Harry and Ron grab their trunks and lug them into their room. Once Harry has shoved his trunk at the end of his bed, he goes to close the door. He glances out, wondering if he should wish anyone goodnight, but all the other doors are already closed.

The room is considerably large. There’s two four poster beds with green silk, black cotton, and silver trim between much of the fabric. By both beds, there is a side table with an ornate stained glass lamp. Then, there is a desk with an lamp hanging off of the wall above it. There’s a bookshelf, too, right by the desk. The entrance to the bathroom is a large ebony door on the opposite wall from where the beds are shoved against, adjacent to either wall where the desks are. On the same wall where the bathroom is, are the doors leading into two closets that both contain a short, wide dresser inside as well as metal rods for hanging clothes.

Harry changes and climbs into bed, deciding he’ll unpack in the morning.

“Great food, isn’t it?” Ron mumbles to him. “Scabbers, no!” He groans out. Harry looks over. Scabbers is chewing on the sheets.

While Ron scolds his rat, Harry buries himself underneath his blanket. He falls asleep quickly, warm and content.

Harry dreams of a large red boulder with a snake curled around it. The animal sits in front, staring at him, while he struggles to move. However, he’ll forget the dream as soon as he wakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a little bit longer for this chapter! Sorry about that. I got the stomach flu last weekend and I got behind in all my schoolwork. Had to play catch up!! It sucked shit. But, hey, now this is done. So, yay?
> 
> Who guessed Slytherin? Lmao. I don't want to FULLY explain but...the animal, Harry's thoughts in canon how they influenced the decision, and...how he looked at the hat when ron was being sorted....


	6. Part I. Chapter VI

The animal is sitting by Ron’s bed in the morning. It watches him as he gets out of bed and begins to get ready. He doesn’t know how early it is – there’s no clock in the dorm room – so, he just get ready at an easy pace. He takes a shower and brushes his hair. He fills his palm with some oil to grease it up a little, something he does once a week after a shower. It makes it easy for him to comb it down.

His hair is rather long now. Harry doesn’t notice until he’s looking at himself in the bathroom mirror. Without Petunia nagging him and living alone without much care to his appearance, he’s forgotten. He hopes there’s no teacher, here, that hates his hair as much as his muggle teachers did.

Harry finishes combing down his hair – it’s still a little wild, mismatching curls and random locks that are for some reason, much shorter, and stick out the top of his head like antennas. He washes his face with cold water.

He steps out of the bathroom with his school robes on, just as Ron’s waking up.

“Blimey,” Ron moans out as he stands up and sways. “How are you awake? It’s early!”

“The sun’s up.” Harry says. He slept well, with a full stomach. He’s hungry again, though, so he hopes breakfast won’t be long.

They have to listen to Professor Snape down in the common room and pick up the schedules, before Harry gets to eat again.

While Harry waits for Ron to finish getting ready, he sits on the edge of his bed and reads his Potions textbook. He doesn’t want to get caught unaware, especially if for some bad luck he has Potions today and he knows nothing. If he’s picked out for that pop quiz, he wants to be prepared. He doesn’t want to make a fool out of himself.

Eventually, Ron is ready. He places Scabbers into his pocket as his finishing touch.

They go down to the common room, deciding to grab their bookbags once they have their schedules.

The common room is packed when Harry and Ron arrive. Professor Snape is, at least, nowhere to be seen. Ron finds an open chair. The seat is large enough to fit them both, though it’s a tight fit. Harry watches the animal walk out from the dormitory door, having trailed behind them.

Harry wonders why the animal is here. It’s been so long since he’s last seen it, after all. Even with all he’s read and learned about the wizarding world, he’s never learned anything about an animal like it. Or why it would be showing him anything.

Busy thinking about the animal, Harry doesn’t notice Professor Snape come in through a small semi-oval door. Everyone turns to point their head towards him, except for Harry.

“Attention!” Snape yells.

Harry jumps. He snaps his head to look over, wide-eyed as he stares at the professor.

As though he hadn’t just yelled, Snape begins to talk in a low, monotone voice. “I am happy to welcome our new Slytherins.” He doesn’t sound very happy at all, Harry thinks. “It’s a new year and I expect every new addition to bring something to the House of Slytherin. The House Cup will be ours once again, as long as none of you-“ Snape’s eyes meet Harry’s. “-mess it up.”

“Every Sunday, we post the new password for entry into our common room on the wall.” He gestures over to a patch of wall covered in different pieces of parchment, all seemingly hanging off of nothing. “I award Slytherins points for tutoring their peers. Please take advantage of your seniors’ knowledge. They will post study sessions and offers, on the wall as well. Towards exam time, I will personally host tutoring sessions to aid all Slytherins.”

Snape drones on. “The books in the common room are not to be taken out. They are part of my own personal collection that I provide to you for your advantage. I rotate them once a month, except for certain titles.” His eyes hit Ron’s next. “As a final note, I expect my House to be united. Fighting between Housemates will not be tolerated. We are all Slytherins.”

Schedules are, then, passed out.

Snape has the House Prefects help him hand out schedules. The first years’ schedules are all the same, so they get into a line and are each handed a copy by a young witch.

Harry comes up to her nearly last. She hands him a copy of the schedule without comment. After him is Ron.

Before Ron walks away, the young witch tells him, “Good luck, Weasley. You’re going to need it.”

* * *

Their first class was Herbology. Harry and Ron managed to find their way to the greenhouses only thanks to a helpful fifth year Slytherin, who had the morning off.

Harry decides quickly that he was going to like Herbology. Being in a greenhouse makes him think of home and Harry loves the smell of the plants living all around him. Still, their first lesson is relatively simple. It’s a safety lesson regarding shears and magical plants with ‘unknown to you properties’.

The animal sits by his feet, while Harry writes down what pages the professor – a short woman, Professor Sprout – told them to read before their next class. It’s only two pages out of their book, but enough to take part in their class activity. They’ll actually be able to touch the plants next class. Harry looks forward to it.

As they exit the greenhouse after class and aim to go get lunch, Harry suffers whispers.

“There, look.” Someone points at him and another gasps, head shaking side to side as it looks over the general area the other had pointed. “Where?” “Next to the tall kid with the red hair. “Wearing the glasses?” “Did you see his scar?”

A lot of people came by more than once to get a better look at him, some directly crossed in front of his path to make him slow down.

The only benefit to all the attention was it made it easy to find classes. Ron and Harry were always able to find a guide.

The rest of Harry’s classes weren’t as eagerly anticipated as Herbology. History of Magic, for instance, was taught by a ghost who died in a fire and decided he might as well stick around to continue teaching. Professor Binns’ voice made Snape’s seem emotional. While Binns’ talks about Emeric the Evil, Harry decides to just read the textbook and take notes off of it instead. It’s easier than listening to Binns’ talk.

There was Charms, which was interesting, but still not absolutely amazing.

Transfiguration seems very interesting when Professor McGonagall transforms her desk into a pig then back again, but it quickly dissolves from amazing transforming magic to a long lecture on theory followed by handing out matches to turn into needles. Needle-turning isn’t anywhere close to animal making, but apparently that’s a far way off. They need to start at the basics.

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this.” Ron complains.

Harry sighs and nods. He flicks his wand and casts the spell again. “It’s supposed to be about intent. So, we just have to think really hard on it being a needle.” He tells Ron.

Ron groans. “I am thinking! I really want it to be a needle!” He says.

Intent, Harry reminds himself as he casts the spell again. His match turns silver, though either end is very dull yet.

“How’d you do that?” Ron asks.

“Intent.” Harry replies. “Imagine a needle, Ron, and want this match to be a needle. Imagine it, turning into a needle.” He explains. “I read a book, once, and it told me that when you’re casting magic, you’ve got to want it really badly. Or, just fool yourself into wanting it really badly until it happens. Magical memory happens when you do it a lot.”

Ron nods. “Magical memory. Right. Okay. Imagine. Want it.” He mutters, babbling really, to himself.

At the end of class, Ron and Harry both succeed into turning their matches into needles.

McGonagall stops by them and blinks in shock. “Did one of you turn both of these?” She asks, carefully, taking their match-turned-needles into either hand. Examining them closely.

“No, we both made separate ones.” Ron says.

Harry nods.

“Astounding.” McGonagall says. “Good job, both of you.” She gives them both a smile, which isn’t something Harry had yet seen on her face.

He smiles back.

Ron and Harry leave class feeling very accomplished. Draco walks by them, a little faster, talking to Crabbe and Goyle about how show-offs get nowhere in life.

Defense Against the Dark Arts came, too. Ron insists the entire way there how amazing class was going to be. Defensive magic, fighting against Dark magic and creatures “It has to be cool!” Ron says, jump in his step.

Harry nods in agreement. He thinks the same.

Or, well, he thought, after their first class.

Professor Quirrell shouldn’t have become a teacher, Harry thinks. He pities the man a little. He seems to have some skill and knowledge in him, but he looks at the full classroom and starts stuttering when he starts to explain something.  The classroom smells like garlic, too, and Harry suspects there might be some garlic underneath Quirrell’s turban, too, due to the strange smell that hangs around behind him.

After the first class, Harry tells Ron he’ll be one minute.

Ron looks at him, confused.

“I want to ask Quirrell about what to read ahead for next class.” Harry says. “I’ve already read what he gave us.”

“Merlin, mate, you’ve got to stop all this reading.” Ron says, but he’s smiling. He likes sitting with Harry in the common room, while Harry reads and helps him with his homework. “I’ll be outside by the door, then.”

Once Ron is gone, Harry lifts up his bookbag and walks up to Quirrell.

Every teacher does the same thing when Harry stays a minute after class, looking at them with wide eyes.

Quirrell looks down, confusion dawning. “Mr. Potter?” He asks.

“Professor, I was wondering if you could tell me the homework assignments for the next class. See, I’ve already done the reading for this one, so…” Harry trails off, when understanding hits Quirrell.

The wizard nods. “Of course! You’re not the only student who is ahead.” He says. “Read chapter four and five. Now, I’m not going to give you the assignment until I give it to everyone else. It won’t be fair if I give you more time to complete it.”

Harry nods. “Okay. Thank you.” He says.

As he walks out of the classroom, with Quirrell humming a song and shuffling through papers on his desk, Harry decides Quirrell would do much better if he wasn’t a teacher. Public speaking to a large group doesn’t seem to be too beneficial, but he talks fine with just one person.

On the Friday of their first week, Harry and Ron finally have Potions.

“They say Snape favors Slytherins. Maybe it’ll be an easy class.” Ron tells Harry.

“We have it with the Gryffindors. Maybe not.” Harry says. He can’t imagine a teacher being that obvious with favoritism.

Friday morning, when the mail arrives, Harry is eating toast with honey spread on top when an owl stops by him and drops a letter.

“Well, Potter, finally got something, did you?” Draco asks cheekily. He gets a letter every morning and he’s already gotten two care packages from home.

“Shut up, Malfoy!” Ron snaps while Harry takes the envelope off of the tabletop. The owl flies off once it sees him pick it up.

He knows immediately who has written to him when he sees the black wax seal. After breaking it and forcing the parchment to unfold, he reads:

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope your studies are going well. Birds have been flying high, I’ve heard you’re a Slytherin. Congratulations. I know many successful Slytherins, though I know success can come from any House. Still, Slytherins are particularly good at finding themselves near the top._

_Your plants are doing well. I stop by once a day to water them for you. The house seems very strange without you about. I’ve begun to miss you tugging on my robes. This doesn’t give you permission to do it again next time we’re together, just me saying that I do miss you. Auror duties are very boring without having to think about you._

_I’ll be sending a care package on the behalf of the Ministry of Magic very soon. We’ve also gotten some letters from your supporters. We’ll be sending those soon, too._

_Tell Professor Sprout I said hello._

_Sincerely,  
Auror V.R. Derrickson_

Harry folds the letter in half then in half again, before jamming it into his pocket.

“Who’s it from?” Ron asks.

“The Auror who took care of me.” Harry says. “I think she’s worried about me.” He admits.

Derrickson admitted to missing him. It’s very strange, Harry thinks, but he shrugs it off. He wants to eat breakfast before going to attend Potions with Professor Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than usual because finals are all this week and my classes are ending for the year. It'll prolly be 1-2 weeks before my next update again for the next chapter. But, until then...
> 
> Derrickson is mentioned again! The animal is lurking around in the background. Harry's cord of destiny might be getting tugged at very soon, who knows? How do you think Ron's going to do in Slytherin? Are you thinking at all about Scabbers, about Harry's classes, about Quirrell? There's a lot of things to start to unfold for Harry's first year, his school life, and just his life!! It's going to be really fun to write.

**Author's Note:**

> tell me whatcha think!


End file.
